Chapter Twenty-Four: The Mountain Demon

“Hurry up!” Shen Chang’an furrowed his brows, beginning to doubt whether bringing these two along had been a mistake. He should have checked if there was a basement in the guesthouse and thrown them both down there, venturing out on his own.

“Shen, you’re walking too fast,” Su Hongyi called out, slightly out of breath. Chen Mengchen, trailing behind, had even less stamina, her breathing already coming in heavy gasps.

“I can slow down, but do you think that monster will?” Shen Chang’an’s tone had grown cold. With lives hanging in the balance, these two still dawdled.

At these words, Su Hongyi immediately fell silent, sticking close behind Shen Chang’an. Chen Mengchen, too, shot Shen Chang’an a cautious glance. Seeing his grave expression, she dared not complain aloud, though inwardly she grumbled.

Shen Chang’an followed the monster’s scent, his heart uneasy. He hadn’t drawn a single talisman in days, spending his time idly leafing through Daoist texts or playing games. He never expected to encounter something like this here.

If only he’d kept talismans on hand; even if he couldn’t draw another Azure-Ping Demon-Slaying Talisman, a handful of Sword Talismans or Sharpness Talismans flung all at once should have been more than enough to handle the creature. But now, apart from the Zhonglong Jade Talisman, he had nothing. That cold, gleaming Wild Goose-Feathered Saber had been given to the little fox—Shen Chang’an was left wielding a kitchen knife, feeling far from confident.

Relying on a few kitchen knives to take down a mysterious monster, Shen Chang’an could only hope the enemy wasn’t too formidable. Otherwise, with his meager skills, he stood little chance.

He wondered if he’d reached the monster’s lair, for the scent that had been shifting directions suddenly halted. “Keep up, we’re almost there.”

Shen Chang’an’s worry deepened. If the monster began feasting once home, Sun Qiqi’s life would be forfeit. He activated his divine sense, scanning the area for auras. Sensing only the monster’s presence, he no longer bothered waiting for the laggards. “You two, follow on your own. When you see me, stay back.”

With that, Shen Chang’an wasted no more time. He crouched low and shot forward like the wind.

Su Hongyi and Chen Mengchen could only watch as Shen Chang’an’s figure darted away like a dragon in flight, vanishing from their sight in a few bounds.

The two exchanged uneasy glances, finally realizing that if not for waiting on them, Shen Chang’an would have caught up to the creature long ago. They truly were a burden. And now, without his protection, it wasn’t just monsters they had to fear—even a snake emerging from the forest would leave them helpless.

Panicked, they hurried after Shen Chang’an, flashlights in hand, following the huge footprints the monster had left behind. At least the trail was clear.

Meanwhile, Shen Chang’an, unencumbered, took the lead and untied the kitchen knives from his waist, gripping them tightly. These knives were finely crafted—sharp, no doubt. But they weren’t made for combat; they’d likely chip or break, especially under his strength. Even the cleaver, made for chopping bones, might not withstand more than a few swings.

He intended to use the knives as disposable weapons, throwing them all at once. For close combat, he’d have to rely on the woodcutter’s hatchet—a tool sturdy enough for chopping firewood, so less likely to break, though how long it would hold its edge was another matter. He could only hope he finished the fight before it dulled.

He approached the monster’s den—a clean, spacious cave, clearly man-made, with chisel marks visible on the walls.

Shen Chang’an slipped inside. It was pitch dark, but channeling his inner energy, his eyes adjusted enough to see. After being refined by innate true energy, his physical abilities surpassed those of ordinary men; even in darkness, he could catch traces of light. Using his spiritual power further sharpened his vision.

He crept into the cave, nerves taut. If the monster’s sense of smell was as keen as his own, it might already have detected his presence.

Fortunately, the creature seemed to lack special olfactory abilities. Even as Shen Chang’an moved closer, it showed no reaction.

He studied the beast. It stood two to three times the height of a man, massive and covered in coarse hair. From behind, its form resembled a human’s.

“A primate?” Shen Chang’an was startled. Was this some giant ape, perhaps a kind of orangutan?

Just as he was about to act, the monster abruptly turned, and Shen Chang’an froze.

It had a human face.

Shen Chang’an’s mind buzzed as he looked lower, confirming the creature had reversed feet.

“It’s a Shanxiao!”

He had thought that in this world, the worst he’d face would be some mutated beasts—he hadn’t expected to encounter a true demon.

Shanxiao were recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, and the Notes from the Cottage of Close Scrutiny. These creatures had human faces, long arms, dark fur, and reversed feet, with immense strength and speed surpassing that of leopards. In the wild, they could tear tigers and leopards apart with their bare hands—a true king of the mountains.

Strange Tales even classified them as great demons, though they could be harmed by blades—proving they were creatures of flesh and blood, not phantoms.

The Shanxiao, seeing Shen Chang’an behind it, flew into a rage and spun to strike him with a massive fist.

Without thinking, Shen Chang’an dashed aside. Even without looking, the Zhonglong Jade Talisman allowed him to sense the monster’s position. He flung a kitchen knife toward it in a flash.

It was a boning knife, narrow and razor-sharp. With all his strength behind the throw, the blade flashed coldly through the darkness, hurtling straight at the Shanxiao.

There was a sharp hiss as the knife buried itself to the hilt, only the handle protruding. Shen Chang’an blinked in surprise, then a thunderous roar shook the cave.

Wracked with pain, the Shanxiao swung furiously at Shen Chang’an’s position.

He didn’t try to block, seizing the chance to leap away, not wanting to risk harming Sun Qiqi in close quarters.

He’d already spotted her, bound by a resilient strip of bark and suspended in the air—uncomfortable, perhaps, but apparently unharmed.

Leaping back a few paces, Shen Chang’an’s face lit with excitement. In the notes of Master Liu Quan, great demons were said to have bellies as hard as stone, impervious to blades. Yet the Shanxiao before him had been pierced by a boning knife—clearly not as formidable as the legends claimed.